I felt every drop of blood recede from my cheeks.
"Smith!" I began....
"Let him speak for himself," interrupted my friend sharply.
"They tried to take us both," continued Aziz, still speaking in that
soft, melodious manner, but with deep seriousness. "I escaped, I, who
am swift of foot, hoping to bring help."--He shook his head
sadly--"But, except the All Powerful, who is so powerful as the
_Hakim_ Fu-Manchu? I hid, my gentlemen, and watched and waited,
one--two--three weeks. At last I saw her again, my sister Karamaneh;
but ah! she did not know me, did not know _me_, Aziz, her brother! She
was in an _arabeeyeh_, and passed me quickly along the _Sharia
en-Nahhasin_. I ran, and ran, and ran, crying her name, but although
she looked back, she did not know me--she did not know me! I felt that
I was dying, and presently I fell--upon the steps of the Mosque of
Abu."
He dropped the expressive hands wearily to his sides and sank his chin
upon his breast.
"And then?" I said huskily--for my heart was fluttering like a captive
bird.
"Alas! from that day to this I see her no more, my gentlemen. I travel
not only in Egypt but near and far, and still I see her no more until
in Rangoon I hear that which brings me to England again"--he extended
his palms naively--"and here I am--Smith Pasha."
Smith sprang upright again and turned to me.
"Either I am growing over-credulous," he said, "or Aziz speaks the
truth.
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